Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Or maybe Dumbledore will loan me his Pensieve

I've been blessed with a pretty good memory. Ask me what my third grade teacher's name was (Mrs. Leach), or what the opening lyrics were to the "Perfect Strangers" theme song ("Sometimes the world looks perfect / nothing to rearrange ... "), or my least favorite opera-day on Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was ("Bubbleland", with the opening number voiced by Francoise Clemens). While it's handy for things like Trivial Pursuit, sometimes I get the feeling that my brain's getting cluttered. There are, after all, things I'd be happy to forget, such as:
  • The day of the kindergarten Christmas program, when my stick containing stapled bells suddenly became unstapled in the middle of a vigorous rendition of "Jingle Bells". With true presence of mind, I continued to shake the empty stick, but I wasn't so naive that I could ignore the chuckles of the audience members.
  • The first day of second grade (at a new school) when I cleared the classroom by losing my lunch all over my desk. That's a powerful way to get yourself some privacy. And no friends.
  • The time in fifth grade when I fell in the school cafeteria, right into a puddle of orange soda, which stained my white outfit for the rest of the day.
  • The first day of sixth grade when I carried a full tray of cafeteria food down a crowded aisle of seated students, only to have one wave her arms at just the right (or, wrong, really) moment and knock my meal all over the place. (Happy ending -- she ended up being one of my dearest friends after that inauspicious beginning, and even occasionally reads this blog. Hey, girl, call me.)
  • The lyrics to Richard Marx's "Hazard."
  • Spiderman 3.
  • Morning sickness.
  • Everything I wore from the year 1986 through 1991.
The thing that worries me is that these and other extremely forgettable memories will infringe on the stuff I never, ever want to lose. And there are many of them.
  • My gramma's voice, especially when she sang Christmas carols.
  • My grampa's laugh, almost silent but with much shoulder-shaking.
  • The way my mom's hugs feel like she completely enfolds you in her embrace, even now that I'm taller than she is.
  • My husband's repeated whispering of the single phrase, "you're my wife" after our wedding ceremony, like it was too good to be true.
  • My dad calling my husband "son" for the first time and giving him an enormous hug after we got married.
  • My son's first cry, and immediately after that, the break in my husband's voice when he said, "that's our baby."
  • The maniacal giggle my son gets when he's being carried, and he's looking over that person's shoulder, and you pretend you're going to get 'im.
Maybe Apple, in all their genius-ness, will come up with a way to back up my personal memory. I'd spend a lot of money on that baby.

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